


Spinning in Spirals

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Love Confessions, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Season/Series 07, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Keith gets his hands on some Olkari weed. It makes Shiro sleepy and it makes Keith cuddly, and together they talk about the past.





	Spinning in Spirals

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic request for the prompt of space weed + sappy cute chats about Keith’s garrison crush. 
> 
> Also this is my third sheith fic in a week and rest assured that I'm embarrassed by the astounding lack of chill.

Keith flicks the lighter on with his thumb. He inhales as he lights up the joint, leaning back against the wall his bed is pressed against, Shiro beside him. 

Not a joint, Shiro reminds himself. Keith told him as much, when he appeared in the doorway to save Shiro from endless piles of paperwork and a looming possible meeting with Slav (that is, if this reality ended up being the one in which they actually meet to discuss reverse-engineering the Atlas bridge and not the probability of Shiro dying again). Shiro’s starting to wonder if Keith really does have a sixth sense for knowing when Shiro needs saving, even if only from headaches.

 _The Olkari call it a reuniter_ , Keith told him with that wicked little grin he has when he knows he’s breaking rules. Shiro’s always loved that smile. _Think the Atlas Captain’s bad enough to share this with me or am I gonna have to be on my own?_

Not quite a challenge, but enough to make Shiro laugh back at Keith and follow him anywhere. It’s not usually his thing, but he’s feeling high-strung, and it’s been a few days since he’s been able to actually have some alone time to just hang out with Keith. He covets those moments more and more, lately, precious and never long enough. There’s always so much to do. They seem to be pulled in so many directions and all Shiro wants is to be quieter, even if only a moment, with Keith.

Shiro thinks that it makes sense the word the Olkari choose is reunion, considering their connection with the plants in their home. Keith releases his deep inhale and the smoke comes out twinged purple and curling like a spiral up towards the ceiling. He grins at Shiro and holds the reuniter out to Shiro. 

“What’d you say this is called again?” Shiro asks, even as he takes it from Keith’s hand. It smells sweet and pungent, although Shiro can’t place the actual thing it reminds him of. Nothing like Earth’s marijuana, which Shiro’s always thought smelled far too skunky and too much like fermented cabbage to ever truly enjoy. (That, and the fact that he associates the smell with painful muscle contractions, one of many medicines assigned to him over the years.) 

“ _Al’deryion_ ,” Keith says, his pronunciation smooth and gentle and pleasant, just like the smell of the purple plant curled up in the paper. Keith’s quarters already smell like al’deryion, and Shiro wonders if the smell will ever come out— it’s almost cloying. Keith continues, after a thoughtful moment, “Most people can’t pronounce it properly. You know they’re just calling it Purple? Uncreative.”

Shiro chuckles and then eyes the bag’s contents— a couple more reuniters there. “Where’d you get this anyway?” 

“Going to report me, Captain?” Keith teases. “You’re the one holding the contraband.” 

Shiro snorts, “But seriously.” 

Keith looks amused as he shrugs. “I got some from a new Olkarian recruit. She didn’t know it’s— well, the Earth equivalent’s— banned for on-duty cadets. Told her to hide it until she was off-duty.” 

Shiro chuckles. “Good leadership.” 

He says it as a joke, but he beams up at Keith anyway, who returns the smile in that same quiet way he always does whenever Shiro praises him for being the Black Paladin. Shiro continues smiling at him for a moment and then takes a small sip of the reuniter, lets the smoke pluck at his lungs He doesn’t normally do something like this— not for any reason other than Earth’s pot tends to just make him sleepy and Shiro always found that boring and unproductive. 

Shiro breathes out and only coughs a little on the tail end. The smoke clouds his view of the ceiling. It’s a boring ceiling, at least. Keith’s quarters are pretty sparse. He smiles a little to himself, imagining sneaking in here and pressing plastic, glow-in-the-dark stars up there for Keith to find after a long day. Keith would know it was him instantly if only because the stars would be in the actual order of constellations. 

“Good?” Keith prompts, smiling as he watches Shiro. His eyes are soft, responding to Shiro’s smile. 

Shiro turns his head to look at Keith and he holds the reuniter back out to him. 

“Did I look like I needed to relax this much?” he asks, always quick to self-deprecate. He knows he’s been burning the candle at both ends— and he knows Keith’s likely to be the first person to notice it, even before Shiro himself. 

Keith takes a long drag, mouth curled into a smile. He’s about to tease him. Shiro can see it written plain on his face. 

“Yep,” Keith says and grins, voice strained as he holds the smoke in his lungs. He turns his head to cough a moment later so he’s not directing it towards Shiro’s face. “I could see your blood pressure climbing from across the hangar.” 

“Very funny,” Shiro says, although he smiles.

Keith hums and flops down on the bed, settling beside Shiro so they’re both looking up at the ceiling, the reuniter held gently in Keith’s pinched fingers, lifted between them. 

“Whoa,” Shiro says after a moment. “This stuff hits fast.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “That’s the point. Alien metabolisms and all that. It can take hours for the Olkari.” 

Shiro feels sleepy. It’s a pleasant sensation, like finally getting to relax after a long day. His head doesn’t feel like it’s swimming the way it can with Earth’s marijuana. It’s more comforting than that, like the way the mind drifts right before dreaming. 

They’re splayed out sidelong on the bed, both their legs hanging over the side. Keith shifts beside him and Shiro watches absently as he gropes around for the pillow at the head of his bed and then tucks it under Shiro’s head— who, with some effort, lifts up to accommodate. 

Keith takes another inhale, balanced on his elbow. Then he turns towards Shiro, falling onto his side and curling up against Shiro’s, pressing his long, lean body against Shiro’s. He rests his head on his shoulder, all tucked up and comfortable. His movements are sure, as if he knows exactly how this will be received, that he’ll be welcomed. 

_Ah,_ Shiro thinks to himself. _Weed makes Keith cuddly._

Shiro hardly minds. Even now, after months in this body, used to being alive again (used to being human, physically present, gravity-bound), a simple touch can be enough to send him reeling, untethered and uncentered because of the sheer marvel of skin against skin. He never thought about it like that before, back before everything. He took for granted what a quiet joy it is to be touched by someone. It makes Shiro aware, fully, of how very little he touches others in his day to day. 

Keith curls into his side, hand splayed over his stomach and resting there like he’s always belonged. Shiro wraps his arm around Keith’s shoulders. It’s relaxing, comforting, a friendly and pleasant weight between them. Keith’s bed is comfortable for a garrison-issue. The pillow is soft against his head. Keith is lean and firm and solid beside him, smelling like the cloying sweetness of al’deryion and just himself. It’s safe. It feels like home. 

“Hey,” Shiro whispers. 

He doesn’t really have anything to say, more a soft exhale than anything else. But Keith sighs and lifts the reuniter, pressing it to Shiro’s mouth for him. Shiro closes his eyes and inhales, lets himself really feel it. The reuniter burns faster than what Shiro remembers pot doing, and Keith’s already just pinching a small piece, fingertips so close to pressing to his lips. The smoke filling his lungs tastes as sweet as it smells, coiling around inside him like it’s alive.

Keith holds the reuniter steady, and pulls away only when Shiro tips his chin a bit. 

“Thanks, Keith,” Shiro says, once he blows the smoke out again, and maybe he means it more than just being here with him, or the alien pot itself. Maybe he means it in the cosmic sense, in the everything sense. He knows Keith understands. 

Keith nuzzles a little against his shoulder, fingertips curling in Shiro’s garrison uniform jacket. Shiro’s stomach and Keith’s hand rise and fall with Shiro’s breath. 

Shiro isn’t sure if it’s the alien weed or if it’s everything that makes him think he’d willingly stay here, like this, forever. With Keith. It’s absurd, but quiet, but weighted. It’s everything. If Shiro felt more awake, maybe he’d say it. 

Keith sits up after a long moment, taking one last drag on the reuniter before its little purple ember sputters out. Keith leans away from Shiro (with some effort when Shiro hesitates before dropping his arm) and dabs the stub out against his bedside table. Then he fishes a new one from the bag and holds up the lighter as he turns back towards Shiro, a question in his eyes.

“Got somewhere to be, Captain? Or we can just stay like this the rest of the night,” Keith asks, mouth toying with a smile. 

“Nowhere I’d rather be but here,” Shiro answers, slow and sweet. Keith looks both relieved and thrilled as he lights up the second reuniter and lets Shiro take the first drag. 

They pass it back and forth in silence. Keith tucks back into his spot at Shiro’s side, cuddling up to him. Shiro’s eyelids feel heavy, but in a pleasant way. They don’t speak, but that’s okay. Just being in Keith’s company is enough. Keith understands. That’s enough. That’s everything. 

Keith’s free hand rises and falls on Shiro’s stomach. Then shifts up, tracing the closed seam of the jacket’s fastenings, the line from chest up to collar. He fiddles with the collar and then giggles to himself. 

“Mmm?” Shiro hums. He’s so sleepy and comfortable, he nearly forgets to blow the smoke back out again. 

“Just… thinking.” There’s amusement in Keith’s voice and a moment later, he elaborates, “I never would have guessed we’d be here like this when I first met you.” 

Shiro laughs, too, as he thinks back on that time— so long ago, it feels now. It feels like decades, eons ago. But in the grand scheme, it wasn’t that long at all. Or, further now for Keith than Shiro. A stranger thought, still. 

He touches Keith’s hair and feels the way Keith shivers pleasantly at the touch. He plays with the bits at the nape of his neck, curling around his collar. His fingertips brush over his neck, curl and tug gently on the licks of his hair. His hair is always thicker than Shiro expects, but soft enough to slide through his fingertips like liquid. 

“I feel that way about a lot of things, really,” Shiro admits, and it doesn’t come out heavy, although it easily could have. Keith hums his agreement and acceptance of what’s left unsaid. Keith fiddles with, messes up, and then readjusts Shiro’s collar. His fingertips brush along Shiro’s throat and Shiro can’t help but swallow. Keith’s fingertips touch his adam’s apple.

Keith’s palm presses, just for a moment, against his throat. No pressure, but Shiro stops breathing for a moment. And then Keith slides up his throat and he sits up to look at Shiro, studying his face. Shiro holds out the reuniter for him and Keith takes it absently, taking in a few small sips as he looks at Shiro. He looks amused, but thoughtful, too. 

Shiro feels the shift as it falls over them in waves, when Keith, hovering over him, goes quiet and still— the way he does whenever he’s thinking deeply about something important. Their gazes catch and hold. The reuniter stays poised against Keith’s lips, pressed there, the little purple ember glowing and sparking a reflection in Keith’s eyes. 

Keith is so close. His eyes are so dark, so beautiful— Shiro always thinks he knows what color to call them, and then they go and change. Like the way light reflects and refracts off a nebula. Keith is a galaxy. Keith is the universe. Shiro marvels at the fact he’s never realized that before. 

Keith sighs out, long and drawn-out, and the smoke curls all around him as he stares down at Shiro.

“… I had a crush on you, you know,” Keith says. “Before Kerberos.” 

Shiro turns those words over in his mind. He blinks, slow and sleepy. “I know,” he says, something pinching between his eyebrows. “I mean… I thought maybe you did. I was never sure. But… I figured.” 

“Guess I was obvious,” Keith says. He doesn’t look particularly embarrassed, just thoughtful. His hand lifts and touches at Shiro’s hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead. It’s unbearably soothing, almost enough to make Shiro want to fall asleep. Keith always has that effect on him— that ability to make Shiro feel completely safe and cared for. 

Shiro looks up at him, feels his cheeks going pink. “It, uh. It was a nice feeling. Flattering, you know?” 

Keith’s mouth twitches up into a smaller smile, curving at one edge. A piece of his hair slips out from behind his ear and frames along his face, tracing the edge of his jaw. 

Shiro feels slow in his movements when he lifts his hand to touch at that piece of hair, brushing it back from his face, but missing his ear. It falls back to the same spot again, but Shiro’s hand lingers, fingertips touching at the curve of Keith’s cheek, the slope of his cheekbone. He feels Keith’s jaw flex beneath his touch. 

Keith looks at him for a moment, and then keeps looking even as he turns his head to press the reuniter to his lips and take a deep inhale. The lit end sparks a little, its ember blue-purple. Like Keith’s eyes, Shiro thinks absently, watches Keith exhale a cloud of smoke that curls and coils through the air in spirals. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Keith says with a smile, his eyes still on Shiro. 

Shiro’s fingers are still pressed to Keith’s cheek, and he feels the way Keith’s mouth moves around the words. Shiro smiles and says, “Guess it doesn’t matter what planet it’s from— it’s always going to make me sleepy.” 

“That’s okay,” Keith says. “You deserve to rest, Shiro.” 

Keith’s hand returns to his hair, brushing through it absently. The touch is open and unselfconscious in a way that makes Shiro want to shiver. Keith brushes his fingers through his hair and then shifts, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles over his scalp, starting at the crown of his head and working his way down to the spot behind the shell of his ear. Shiro only manages to hold back a groan and instead takes a soft little breath. 

“I rest,” he counters, belatedly. Keith only hums in response, not protest or acceptance. He frowns up at Keith. “You really had a crush on me? Why?” 

Keith smiles but rolls his eyes. “Fishing for compliments, Captain?” 

“Just curious,” Shiro says with a small laugh. “I swear.” 

“Of course I had a crush,” Keith says, licking his lips. “You were the first person to ever really be nice to me, to give me a chance. And you were hot. And talented and kind and thoughtful. Patient and fun and… you wanted to hang out with me. I didn’t stand a chance.” His thumb keeps rubbing those slow, small circles, intoxicating and soothing. “You’re still all those things.” 

“Hah,” Shiro sighs, overwhelmed. “Oh.” 

“You made me feel like I was worth something,” Keith says. 

“You were. You _are_ ,” Shiro is quick to say. 

Keith smiles at him, soft and familiar, and says nothing else. He focuses instead on rubbing those circles into Shiro’s scalp. 

“Shiro,” Keith whispers. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.” 

Shiro is puzzled for only a moment before he obeys him, letting his eyes fall shut and his mouth open. He feels Keith shifting beside him, hears the movement of his body above him. He hears Keith’s deep inhale. And then the deep exhale, Keith’s hot breath ghosting over him as he breathes the smoke into his mouth. Shiro takes a deep breath around the smoke, hazed and sweet between them. He’s so close, Shiro thinks, he could lean up and kiss him and it’d be as simple as breathing.

Or maybe that’s the weed talking. 

“One more left,” Keith tells him, and he hears his inhale before the sound of the reuniter getting dabbed out. A moment later, Keith blows more smoke into Shiro’s mouth, feels the ghost of Keith’s lips near his, the sweet scent around them. 

When he opens his eyes again, Keith is hovering close. 

“Another?” he asks, gently. “I’ve got one more reuniter.”

“Think I need a minute,” Shiro sighs. “Or else I really will fall asleep.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Keith asks. 

Shiro doesn’t answer. There’s something dreamy and quiet about this entire conversation. Something like this, in normal circumstances, might leave Shiro feeling breathless and overwhelmed in the worst way, reeling with the knowledge that his assumptions, back then, had been correct. Maybe he’d convinced himself it was nothing. He wants to ask Keith if it’s still the same, or— ask when the crush faded. But maybe he isn’t sure if he’s ready for the answer. 

Keith hovers above him, something like the entire universe condensed into one person, a god or fantastical. Beyond his reach. His hands burn with grasping him, with keeping him close. Keith has been and always will be the most beautiful thing Shiro’s ever seen, something that rivals even the stars in the sky. As a kid, Shiro used to stare up at the stars and dream about traveling there, unrestrained and free of his body’s gravity. It’s hard to believe anything could ever eclipse that. But Keith’s above him, hair in his gentle eyes, mouth hinting a smile. Beautiful. Everything.

He closes his eyes and sighs pleasantly when Keith switches tactics, scratching his blunt nails against the curve of his skull, scritching through his hair much like one would pet a dog or cat. It’s unbearably pleasant and comforting. Keith punctuates the movements with a deep, satisfying knead of his knuckles down into the meat of Shiro’s neck, once he reaches the line of his back and shoulders. Shiro melts. 

“You’re cuddly when you’re high,” Shiro mumbles. 

“Is _that_ such a bad thing?” Keith asks around a low chuckle. Shiro cracks his eyes open to smile at him. Keith’s cheeks are pink.

“No,” Shiro answers, honestly. “I like it. I like having you close.” 

Keith’s eyes slide to half-mast, watching him. He skims his knuckles along the knobs of his spine and then goes back to scratching gently through his hair. Shiro can’t help the pleased shiver that rocks through his body. 

They stay like that for a long time, Shiro’s arm curled around Keith and Keith playing with his hair. 

“What about you?” Keith asks, apropos of nothing. 

“Hm?” Shiro hums.

“Did you ever have a crush on me?” Keith asks. 

“Ha,” Shiro sighs. “What a question.”

It isn’t an answer. It’s only because of the al’deryion that Shiro isn’t having an anxiety attack over the question. Instead, he feels weighted down, like an anchor. It’s an almost pleasant feeling. A pleasant, weighted comfort, like a heavy blanket over him. Keith’s expression is soft as he looks at him, as if he already knows the answer. 

Keith shifts beside him. His fingertip brushes down the slope of Shiro’s nose, his cupid’s bow, the brush of his mouth. It rests there, just his fingertip pressing to the swell of Shiro’s bottom lip.

Keith says, calm and gentle: “I know you love me, Shiro. And you haven’t told me yet. Why?” 

Shiro blinks up at him, and maybe it’s the space pot that lets him say, without hesitation, “I’m afraid.” 

“You don’t have to be,” Keith says, voice soft. “If I had you, I’d never let you go.” 

“It’s not that,” Shiro says, almost shakes his head but his head feels too sluggish to move and he doesn’t want to risk dislodging Keith’s finger on his mouth. “I’m not afraid of that. I’m… It’s myself. Isn’t that how it always is, Keith? I’m afraid of myself. What I’ll do. What I’ll—”

Keith’s finger pulls back from Shiro’s mouth, but before Shiro can mourn its loss, Keith replaces it with his mouth, kissing him. That sweet smell and taste of the al’deryion is there, all around him. Keith’s hair is soft when Shiro’s hand fumbles up to cup his cheek, fingers sliding back into the dark strands of his hair. He’s kissing him back, he realizes, moments after he’s already begun. 

The kiss is slow and sweet, dreamlike and sleepy. Keith takes his time. He sucks Shiro’s bottom lip into his mouth, pillows his lips to his. It’s soft, gentle. Shiro wants to cry. 

“Keith,” he whispers, or more likely whimpers, when Keith draws away. He stays close, his forehead pressing to Shiro’s, hand skimming his jaw. 

“You already have me,” Keith tells him, voice faraway, his eyes swirling with stars. “Whether you tell me or not, you have me. You’ve always had me, Shiro.” His expression gentles, soothing, and he cups Shiro’s face. “You could never tell me, and it’d be okay. You know that, right?” 

And Shiro knows he means that. Knows that, for Keith, it isn’t a matter of expectation, but mere presence. He’s by his side. He’ll always be by his side. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming, how much Keith has grown. Sometimes, Shiro’s left marveling at it. Years ago, Shiro’s silence would have meant rejection to Keith. And now—

Shiro inches forward, hesitantly. His eyes flicker between Keith’s, unsure where to settle. Keith smiles at him, taking pity on him, and leans forward the rest of the way to kiss him again. 

“Honeysuckle,” Shiro whispers once they part. Keith gives him a questioning hum and he elaborates, “The al’deryion. It smells like honeysuckle.” 

Keith’s smile is gentle, kind, and indulgent. He brushes the hair from Shiro’s forehead. That gesture alone, Shiro thinks, is emblematic of Keith— always overly gentle with him, protective, comforting. It’s almost too much. Given to him without expectation. 

Shiro blinks rapidly for a moment, to clear his vision. “Keith, you know that I…” 

He trails off, swallowing. Keith smiles at him, fond. “I know, Shiro.” 

It feels profoundly unfair to him that Keith could be so understanding, when all Shiro’s ever done is take and take and take— it’ll never be enough to repay him. He owes Keith his life, a thousand times over— in large and little ways, in so many ways Shiro will probably never know. He owes _everything_ to Keith. Suddenly, it feels stupid that he’s been holding onto this for so long. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Keith whispers, fingertips touching Shiro’s mouth, stilling the worrying of his teeth against the inside of his cheek. Shiro makes a strained little sound. Keith soothes him with another kiss, another, another— a series of slow, gentle pecks against his mouth that leaves Shiro breathless. 

Shiro’s hand lifts, touching Keith’s cheek. His thumb traces the line of his scar. 

“It’s okay,” Keith whispers, although Shiro hasn’t said anything. Maybe it shows on his face. Keith turns his head, his lips catching at his palm, pressing a small kiss there. “Shiro. It’s okay.” 

Shiro’s only half-listening, fueled on by a desperation that feels misplaced, despite Keith’s reassurances. 

“More and more,” Shiro says, thumb pressing against the scar. “I think that— that I was born to meet you. That we were meant to meet. Do you ever feel that way?” 

Keith laughs, something hitching in his throat. “All the time.” 

“I _do_ love you,” Shiro gasps out, feels something like tears prickling his eyes. “I think about it all the time, Keith. Sometimes it’s too much. When I— disappeared, in Black, all I could think about was— was what I’d do if I never saw you again and—”

“Shh,” Keith soothes and kisses him again, with his own edge of desperation. Shiro whimpers out a soft, _I love you_ into the kiss, just in case Keith didn’t hear the first time. 

Keith’s hand finds his, tangling their fingertips together. He pins it up above Shiro’s head as he leans more fully, more bodily, against him. All Shiro can feel and smell and taste is Keith, all around him, comforting him, anchoring him down. Soon, all Shiro can focus on and think about is kissing Keith. Again and again. It’s soothing. It’s everything. 

When Keith pulls back, hovering close, his mouth just barely ghosting against Shiro’s, all Shiro can do is open his eyes and look up at him, study the universe in Keith’s eyes. The dark expanse of his hair in Shiro’s vision, framing his unbearably handsome face. 

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life,” Shiro says, and wishes he sounded bolder and not so quiet. 

Keith smiles at him, eyes misting over for only a moment before he blinks it away. “You will be. You don’t have to be afraid, Shiro.”

It’s hardly a promise either of them can really keep, but Shiro believes him. He believes Keith in all things, unquestioning. He smiles up at him and only smiles wider when Keith’s thumb finds the corner of his mouth, what was almost a dimple, and presses. 

Keith sighs as he bends down to brush another kiss to his mouth. “You’re stressed out again. This was supposed to help you relax.” 

“I’m not stressed out,” Shiro protests. “I’m— happy.” He stares at Keith for a moment. “It’s strange. To be happy. I mean… That sounds pathetic, huh?”

“No,” Keith says, unbending.

Shiro sighs and smiles, helpless and tentative. “We love each other.” 

Keith smiles back. His voice is soft when he agrees, “We do.” 

“Could go for that last joint now,” Shiro says.

“Reuniter,” Keith reminds him gently, and pulls back so he can get the last one out of the bag. 

“Reuniter,” Shiro corrects. He sighs, stretching out on Keith’s bed as Keith settles back in beside him. He blinks his eyes open— he hadn’t realized he’d closed them again— and gives Keith what he can only imagine is an overly fond, overly sappy smile. 

The smell of honeysuckle fills the air again as Keith lights up. Shiro sighs, then inhales deep, lets it wash over him in waves. Keith smiles and leans down to meet him, and when he kisses him again, smoke blooms out between them.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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>  **ETA:** Thank you so much to Cruel for [drawing beautiful fanart](https://cruelisblue.tumblr.com/post/180344119988/i-love-stardropdream-s-fanfictions-and-i-wish) for this fic!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stardropdream) // [Dreamwidth](https://stardropdream.dreamwidth.org/)


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